


Tag Team

by achievemenhunter



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gore, M/M, Multi, Murder, Psychoteeth, Serial Killers, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6911590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievemenhunter/pseuds/achievemenhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Gavin know how to incite fear and inflict pain.</p><p>But they've got nothing on what Meg can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tag Team

**Author's Note:**

> Last (but not least) prompt fill - this one's for fornhaus over on tumblr. I'm sorry it took so long for me to finish this.
> 
> I think it'll be a while before I accept prompts en masse again, I feel bad when I can't get through them in a timely fashion.
> 
> Some serious content warnings for this one (it _is_ a serial killer AU, after all): torture, blood, gore, dismemberment, murder. All the fun stuff.

"Please, god, no, please don't," the man babbled, eyes wide with terror, straining away from the two men in front of him. Not that it did him much good - the duct tape binding him hand and foot to the chair he was seated in saw to that.

 

"Well, since you asked so nicely," the lankier of the two men facing him drawled in a British accent, "No."

 

The man sobbed brokenly as the second man, blonder and broader than his companion, crouched down in front of him, head tilted almost curiously as he pulled out a knife.

 

"Be careful, Ryan," the British one warned. "We want this one to last more than a minute."

 

"I said I learned my lesson last time, all right?" Ryan groused, a faint Southern burr present in his voice. He casually plunged the knife into the fleshy part of the captive man's upper arm, purposefully missing any arteries, just to prove that he had. He even left the knife in, to stem the blood flow from the wound further, the blade pinning their victim's shoulder to the chair. "See?" he said pointedly as the man howled in pain. "Pass me another knife."

 

"I want a turn," the brunet pouted.

 

"Gavin," Ryan growled.

 

"Don't be greedy," Gavin shot back. "I get the next one. Then you can have another go. It's fairer that way."

 

"Less fun that way," Ryan countered grumpily, but obligingly stepped back to give Gavin some space.

 

"Thank you," the Brit said primly, and almost as quickly as Ryan had, he buried another knife in the man's opposite arm. The man screamed again, body twitching as he instinctively tried to hunch against the pain. But, seeing as his upper half was now quite thoroughly pinned to the chair, he was forced to keep his shoulders straight.

 

The man's gaze darted wildly around the basement room, looking desperately for some possible means of escape.

 

There weren't any. No windows meant no passers-by would happen to glance in and see that two psychopaths were torturing him. The door at the top of the stairs was impossibly far away, and his futile struggles earlier had indicated that his chair was attached to the floor. And there was no way of getting out of his chair - not with those two knives in his shoulders embedded through him, into the wood. That was assuming he could even get out of his duct tape bonds.

 

He was distracted from his plotting by another knife being imbedded in his arm, just below the first. As soon as his initial howl of agony quietened into a constant, low moan of pain, Gavin took his turn and added another.

 

Despite the pain it caused, the man jerked with every new knife that was plunged into his arms, Ryan and Gavin dutifully taking turns until the knives climbed down from the man's shoulders to his wrists.

 

The door at the top of the stairs suddenly opened and a young woman with vibrant violet hair walked in, her pretty mouth falling open in a perfect 'o' of shock.

 

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, his tormentors turning and cringing under her sudden withering glare as she descended the steps.

 

The man whimpered in relief at the sight of his perceived saviour.

 

"Sorry, Meg," Ryan mumbled, looking at his shoes. It seemed ludicrous that he was cowed by someone who barely came up to his shoulder, but the captive man didn't care. He was too wrapped up in the prospect of freedom.

 

"Please," he croaked. "Please help me."

 

"Of course I will, just hold still sweetie." She sent another glare in Ryan and Gavin's direction, and both of them visibly flinched, taking several steps back. "What's your name?"

 

"M-Murphy. Jarrod Murphy."

 

"Jarrod? Can I call you Jarrod?" Meg asked gently, her voice practically cooing. "I'm going to take out all these horrible knives, okay Jarrod? I'm sure they hurt a lot, don't they?"

 

Jarrod nodded jerkily, hiccupping out sobs from the pain.

 

"It's going to hurt when I take them out too, but they'll feel better once they're out, okay? You ready?"

 

Jarrod nodded again, sucking in a juddering breath that morphed into a thin wail as Meg pulled out one of the knives buried in his arm. She dropped it to the floor with a clang and moved onto the next, crooning at him as she slowly removed the blade. She steadily worked her way down his arm before moving onto the next.

 

Sweat mingled indecipherably from tears on Jarrod's face as Meg finally took out the last of the knives.

 

"There, does that feel better?" she asked sweetly, and he gave her an exhausted nod.

 

"Thank you," he whispered, the wounds aching but definitely feeling better without sharp blades inside them. He didn't even notice the blood that welled from the mouth of each injury.

 

"That's okay. They're not going to hurt you anymore, all right? You don't have to worry about them."

 

He thanked her again, sagging with exhaustion.

 

Meg sent another glare in Gavin and Ryan's direction. "I've told those boys they're not allowed to start without me, but do you think they listen?" she tutted, inspecting his wounds. Ryan muttered another apology and Gavin kept his eyes downcast. "They're just going to have to deal with only watching this time around."

 

Jarrod flinched suddenly, his brief spark of hope flickering out. "W-what?"

 

"Oh, sweetheart," she simpered dramatically. "You didn't _really_ think I was here to save you, did you?" Meg cupped his cheek as his gaze became terror-stricken once more. Then, quick as lightning, the knife still in her hand flashed down, slamming clean through Jarrod's pinkie finger. He screamed, arm jerking helplessly even as the motion caused his other injuries to flare with pain.

 

She shushed him gently, the sound entirely drowned out by his agonised screams.

 

He stopped screaming when she delicately dropped the severed finger into his mouth, circling behind him and curling an arm around his head, snapping his mouth shut before he had a chance to spit the finger out. Jarrod struggled frantically against her grip, but her slender lines disguised a wiry strength, and he couldn't dislodge her.

 

Seemlingly from nowhere, she produced a thick bone needle already threaded with a length of the sturdy twine, and she completed a full stitch at one corner of Jarrod's lips before he even realised what she was doing. Again, he did his best to break free, and again, she held him in place, swiftly adding another three stitches. Already, it was less painful to simply let her continue to sew his mouth shut than try to scream against the thread knotted through his lips.

 

Meg hummed as she deftly stitched Jarrod's lips together, her work visibly neater at the point where Jarrod had given up fighting.

 

"You were making too much noise," she whispered next to his ear, barely audible over his muffled shrieking.

 

Blood oozed from the finger onto his tongue, and his mouth filled with saliva as he struggled not to swallow. Then, with a shudder, he caved, forced to press the severed finger against the roof of his mouth to stop it going down his throat. He made a noise of protest, almost looking like he was going to throw up for a moment, but he managed to keep it down - probably the thought that throwing up would mean drowning in his own vomit being the only reason he was able to do so. Meg gazed at him pensively, bloody needle still in hand as she tapped her chin pensively.

 

She turned to look at the two watchful men behind her. "What d'you think, boys? Ears or nose? I can't decide."

 

Gavin's answer was immediate. "You know I don't like nose stuff," he complained, and Ryan nodded in sympathy.

 

"It _would_ make it kind of hard for him to breathe, considering."

 

Meg shrugged and yanked the knife out of the arm of the chair, then grabbed Jarrod by the hair with her other hand, forcing his head to tilt. With a single neat slash, his left ear peeled off like a fruit rind, and hit the floor with a soft splat. Jarrod's lips strained against the thread wound through them as he howled, but Meg used only the best for this sort of thing, and the stitching held. She tipped his head to the other side, blade descending once more so that he matched.

 

Although he didn't match, not entirely - his right pinkie finger was still attached to his body, after all. She quickly rectified the discrepancy. Jarrod looked close to passing out.

 

His eyelids drooped shut, whimpers of pain trickling through the small gaps between the seams holding his lips closed. He could hear Meg doing something through his ruined ears, but seeing how she wasn't actively causing him harm, he couldn't bring himself to care. She moved behind him and he barely even flinched.

 

A slight weight settled on his chest, just below the sternum, and despite himself, he cracked his eyes open and looked down.

 

His regret was immediate. Meg had taken his ears and his right pinkie finger, and threaded more of the twine through them, making a necklace that she had hung upon him. He writhed, heedless of the pain as he tried to get the macabre jewellery off him, but she had already tied it in place. Hysterical sobs shivered their way through him, tears streaking down his face.

 

Then, with one final shudder, he gave up all movement. Still crying silently, he stared blankly ahead of him, gazing at nothing.

 

Meg straightened with a pout. "I didn't mean to break him _that_ quickly," she frowned, looking down at the weeping man in front of her.

 

"Happens to the best of us," Ryan told her, raising his eyebrows at Gavin. The Brit rolled his eyes.

 

"You can off him if you want, love," Gavin offered.

 

Her mouth twisted, dissatisfied. Jarrod didn't react. "Yeah, but it takes the fun out of it if he doesn't care anymore."

 

With a sigh, she slashed the knife across his throat, a thick sleeve of red instantly spilling out. Blood splattered onto her clothes and hands, and Jarrod thrashed before her, eyes devoid of hope as his life seeped away from him. Once he was still, Meg turned back to Ryan and Gavin, jerking her head in the corpse's direction. "I'll let you two deal with that, I have to go shower," she declared sunnily, dropping knife and needle onto the bloodstained floor. She gave them both a peck on the cheek before bounding over to the basement steps.

 

Both men watched her leave fondly.

 

"All right," Ryan murmured. "Let's get to work."

 


End file.
